


THE RED STRINGS

by AgnesClementine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Everyone's happy, I Didn't Know That Was a Tag, M/M, THIS IS SCHMOOP, apparently it is, but - Freeform, honest to god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: Len meets Mick a la 101 Dalmatian style and Lisa is a sneaky matchmaker.





	THE RED STRINGS

**Author's Note:**

> This is all over the place, but I needed to get this out of my head so I can function tomorrow.
> 
> Comment and enjoy. :)

„Not a chance.“ Len says firmly, one hand on his hip and the other held up in a 'hang on' gesture.

His sister pouts, leaning into him and draping her arms around his neck, “But Lenny,” she whines mournfully, “this is really important.”

He knows he’s going to succumb; Lisa has always been his weak spot and he’d do anything she asked him to do. Doesn’t mean he will make it easy.

“I know, Lise, and I’m really proud,” he pauses and casts his eyes downwards, “but can’t you just take _it_ with you?”

Lisa sighs exasperated, “ _It_ has a name, Lenny, and no, I can’t. I told you that already.” She sounds a bit desperate, like she honestly thinks he’ll refuse and he groans.

“Is there really nobody else?” He asks hopefully.

“Really. And I don’t see where’s the problem.” Lisa huffs, straightening and crossing her arms over her front.

“It’s evil.” Len points out, glaring at the _It that won’t be named_.

“It’s a _dog_ , Len.”

“ _It’s a spawn of Satan._ ” Len counters and scowls at the furry creature sprawled over the tiled floor. He gets a lolled out tongue in response like the thing hadn’t chewed out every pair of shoes Len owns that it could get its jaws on.

“Dog, Len.” Lisa repeats.

Len makes a noise of distaste. For all he cares, it could shit gold and he’d still hand it over to a shelter. For Lisa, though, it was enough that it has fluffy fur and doe brown eyes and she was a goner. But with her schedule in her firm, Len ended up spending more time with the damned animal than she did. Which, fine, he does most of his work from home and he’s cheaper than those dog- sitters and Lisa always comes over at the end of her day and whisks it away from Len and his furniture.

“And I still don’t want to babysit _your_ dog for _two weeks_ , Lisa.” He says, again.

She huffs, puffs and bats her eyelashes at him. “Please, Lenny.”

_Goddamnit_.

  * ●●●●



Len wakes up at five- something in the morning to something slobbering over his foot. He lifts his head, previously buried under a mountain of blankets, and groggily blinks at the fuzzy mass gnawing at his ankle. He has to take a moment to make sure it’s not some ‘ _from under the bed_ ’ monster trying to eat him. The dog notices he’s awake and stops his chewing long enough to lick his muzzle while making eye contact with Len.

Len blinks at it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks, but- of course- doesn’t get a response.

It’s entirely too early for this, so Len pulls his foot into the safety of his bed and throws a blanket over his head.

The next time he wakes up, his alarm clock is beeping and the dog is chasing its tail in the hallway. Len carefully sidesteps it and goes to take a shower.

Lisa informed him that he should take the dog for a walk every day at exactly 6:30 a.m. and he doesn’t want to find out what would happen if he didn’t go through with that. His shoes and furniture would probably suffer.

Though he’s barely functional before 10 a.m., he wakes up like no coffee in the world could wake him up when he draws back the shower curtain and find the damn thing sitting in front of the bathtub. He curses and almost breaks his neck while trying to pull the curtain back on- because his sister’s dog is a freaking voyeur.

“Go away! Shoo!” He hisses at it.

The dog barks happily and wags its tail. _Dumbass_. It won’t leave until Len drops a towel over its head and it backpedals out of the room in its effort to throw it off.

They leave his house with a thermos filled with scorching coffee clutched in Len’s hand and a red leash gripped in his other.

Lisa lives a relative distance from his place, so the park Len leads them to is the same. Though, he never took a walk through it himself. He prefers to stay in and whenever he gets a craving for some fresh air and a stroll through nature, the traffic he has to endure is enough to crush that desire in him. And parks are always so noisy.

Subjectively speaking, it should be forbidden to be awake at this hour, but the park is bustling with life. People are walking and talking and _speed- walking_ (an act Len never understood; _either walk or run, make your mind people_ ) and there are far more children than Len was aware lives in his neighborhood.

Because it hates him, as soon as it sees the entrance to the park, the dog makes a mad dash towards it. Len is not prepared. He jerks forward, reflexively tightening his grip on the leash and the thermos, but lacking in his morning caffeine intake, doesn’t dig his heels in.

They surpass a pair of joggers as Len swears and simultaneously shouts, “Excuse me, coming through!” He doesn’t want to get sued because Lisa’s dog is an uncultured beast.

He finally manages to wrestle back some control when they pass by some benches and Len pulls the leash back hard enough that the dog makes a weird, choking noise and- fine, that makes Len feel a little bad, but his lungs and muscles will thank him later. He takes a moment to catch his breath; his body isn’t made for exercise, that’s why he doesn’t have a gym membership.

But that brief moment of heedlessness turns into a hole in his strategy and he, once again, gets jerked forward. This time, it’s followed by barking, yipping, and swearing that’s not his own. He knocks heads with someone and grabs for something to hold onto as the leash around his legs tangles and tightens. There are hands holding his upper arms, so he doesn’t topple over, and a gruff voice still cursing into his ear.

“Are you fucking kidding me? This shit again? Damn it, you okay, Lisa?” He asks, rearranging his grip on Len’s arms. His muscles flex under Len’s hand digging into his bicep and holy _mother of biceps_. Len leans back to correct him when their eyes meet and the guy stills in a way that indicates that, yeah, he noticed Len’s not Lisa.

“Oh, um… fuck.” The guy announces eloquently. Len gives him a flat look.

“Well, that sums it up nicely.” He deadpans. Then he realizes that the guy is holding on to him for support as much as Len is holding on to him as both of them are tangled in dog leashes from knee down. Lisa’s dog is wagging its tail at a Dalmatian that’s yipping at it happily and pulling the leash inch by inch tighter around their legs. Len grits his teeth because it feels like he’s standing on one of those chairs that have wheels and an ability to roll away from underneath him at any moment.

“I thought you were Lisa.” The guy- man, a year or two older than Len- states.

“Let me guess, the buzz cut gave it away.” Len responds while trying to find a way to untangle himself. There are two leashes around them, he notices now, both red and wrapped around their calves.

The guy snorts. “Yeah, you got it.” He says. “I’m Mick.”

“Len. How do you know Lisa?” He questions because his sister has an awful taste in men and Mick is, well, _hot_.

Mick throws a look at their dogs. Lisa’s dog is… Len doesn’t know what the fuck it’s doing. It’s making weird, yowling noises, like it’s trying to talk and failing miserably. _It’s not cute_.

“Right.” He nods. He’s looking for a way to get free because the longer they’re stuck like this the bigger are the chances that Len will turn tomato red. Then he remembers what Mick said in the middle of his swearing. “You don’t happen to know how to get out of this?”

Mick looks back at him and then peers around him to take a look at their binds. He has to lean into Len’s space and Len can smell coconut and smoke on him. It’s strange, but surprisingly not a bad combination.

“Uh… maybe?” Mick voices uncertainly. “Let me try…” They shimmy around awkwardly for a few moments, but eventually manage to free themselves.

Len feels a bit surer in himself with some space between him and Mick and finds that his thermos survived the encounter. He lets the dog off the leash when Mick confirms that, _yes, he’ll come back when you call_ , and plops down on a bench next to Mick.

Their dogs are running over the grass, jumping and falling over each other like, _heh, lovesick puppies_.

Len practically inhales his coffee, turning into some semblance of a human being once he’s done and sets his thermos down on the bench. Mick shifts to give him a stern look. Len arches an eyebrow in turn.

“So how do _you_ know Lisa?” Mick asks- _and Len is absolutely not swayed by the protective note in his voice, no, Sir._

He grins, “Oh, I’ve known her since she was a baby.” He says, watches as Mick’s brow crinkles for a second before his expression smoothes out.

“You- _oh_ , Len as Leonard, the brother.” Mick says, turning an interesting shade of pink. It’s evident that he’s known Lisa for a while, long enough to know about him, so Len’s curious why he never heard anything about him. Lisa is usually eager to tell him about meeting anyone new.

Mick startles for a moment. “I’ve never- we don’t know each other like that either.” He blurts out quickly and then cringes.

Len snorts. “I know.”

Mick looks at him offended.

Len rolls his eyes. “She’s doesn’t have the best taste in men.” He explains, grinning when he notes his internal clock is telling him it’s time to get moving and stands up, leaving Mick spluttering behind him. His semi-dramatic exit is ridiculously satisfying.

He calls for the dog, hooks him on the leash and leaves with one last look at Mick. He waves at Len like a dork and Len sincerely hopes he keeps popping up in Mick’s mind throughout the day because it would be unfair if he’s the only one being punished here.

  * ●●●●



Lisa calls that evening.

“Hi, how are things going?”

And Len can _hear_ the ulterior motive in her tone. He doesn’t give her the pleasure.

“Oh, you know. People still need accountants and my shoes are still getting chewed.”

“That’s all?”

“Yep.”

She’s after something and Len’s not going to give it to her until he figures out what it is.

“You went to the park?”

“Uh- huh.”

“And nothing happened?” She asks disappointedly.

“Nope. Why are you asking?”

“Oh, just so. I need to go.” Lisa says defeated and Len grins to himself.

He hums, “Don’t let me keep you up. Call back soon.”

“I will. Bye.” She hangs up and Len sips at his hot chocolate with a smug expression.

  * ●●●●



Next morning, Len finds himself going through the same routine and ends up on the same bench next to Mick.

Their dogs are fooling around on the field again and Len is apparently providing an interesting commentary because Mick still hasn’t told him to shut up. Though, Mick seems more like a kind that would say something more grown up. Like _shut the fuck up_.

The weather is nice, but cloudy and Len wonders if it’s going to rain.

“Huh? Did you ask me something?” Mick questions when Len asks for his opinion.

“Yes.”

“Oh, I wasn’t listening.”

“What?”

Mick shrugs.

“You’re providing great background chatter.” Len narrows his eyes at him and kicks his ankle.

  * ●●●●



Turns out, despite Mick being a jerk, they click. They both dislike slow walkers and people who mow their lawns in mornings and they are both suckers for criminalistic TV shows.

  * ●●●●



Mick owns a café/bakery few blocks from the park and likes old movies and vampires. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he plays with his lighter in his hands (he doesn’t smoke, just likes to keep it with him). Len finds it captivating.

  * ●●●●



Mick looks positively horrified when he finds out that Len’s diet consists of takeout, microwaveable food and hot chocolate. Whatever, his arteries are still not clogged, so he’s good for a while.

  * ●●●●



Len doesn’t care that Mick might be a pyromaniac and Mick doesn’t mind Len’s compulsion to lie.

  * ●●●●



Mick is willing to put up with Len’s shit sense of humor.

Len is in love.

  * ●●●●



Len rouses from a nap when the dog (he still refuses to call it by its name) nips at his fingers, his hand hanging off the couch. His brain registers the faint sound of knocking and he scrambles to his feet to close the dog in the utility closet before opening the door.

Mick is standing at the doorway, fist poised to knock against the door once more.

“Hi?” Len tries.

“Hi. Can I come in?” Mick asks and Len notices the grocery bags in his other hand.

Confused and dazed, Len nods and lets him in, locking the door behind him and letting the dog out of the closet. Mick gives him a questioning look when the dog breezes past him to sprawl over the couch.

Len shrugs, “Either that or I have to chase him around the neighborhood.”

Mick shakes his head and simply asks where the kitchen is.

Len watches as he pulls out various ingredients and vegetables and greens that Len can’t name.

“Don’t you know what fresh celery looks like?”

“Bold of you to assume I know what any vegetable looks like before it’s served on a plate.”

They don’t talk much while Mick cooks, mostly because Mick keeps evading his questions and responding in grunts and hums. Nevermind, Len is content to watch his arm and back muscles ripple as he cuts and stirs, something warm spreading in his chest.

  * ●●●●



Len doesn’t know what he eats, but he eats it two times- and promptly works himself into a food coma.

“Oh, my God, I’m gonna die.” He groans from the couch, throws a half-hearted glare at Mick when he snorts and takes a bite of his apple. Len doesn’t understand where he found more space for it.

“You’re so overdramatic.” Mick comments lightly. He’s petting the dog where it parked itself in front of him and laid its head on Mick’s knees.

“Duh.” Len intones and kicks his feet up o the coffee table. He settles comfortably, warm and fed; _hmm, he could go for another nap_.

But Mick’s been acting a bit off, like a toned down version of himself. Len would call it nervous, but he can’t put nervous and Mick in the same sentence and have it make sense. He goes over the lunch and their interactions, paying close attention to Mick’s reactions and comes to one conclusion.

“Mick,” he starts slowly, giddiness making his fingers twitch, “is this a date?”

He can feel his own cheeks heat up as Mick’s cheeks turn pink and he shifts in his seat.

“I- yeah.”

“Hm. I thought you’re supposed to ask the other person out on those.”

“Yeah.”

“Mick?”

“Hm?”

“Come here and give me a kiss.”

  * ●●●●



“I’m back!”

Lisa announces as soon as she enters his house, travel bags carelessly thrown on the floor. She’s got sun freckles and a tan.

“I thought you went on a business trip.” Len points out.

Lisa sighs, “I did. Lenny, it was awful. So hot and boring.”

“Of course.”

“And how were things here?” She asks, peaking into the kitchen like she thinks someone’s hiding there.

Len bites down on a smirk.

“Fine. Nothing special.”

“Oh? So, nothing happened?”

“No. Is something supposed to happen?” He asks, faux clueless.

Lisa scrunches up her face, “No, nothing.” She sighs. But then her eyes get that evil gleam in them and she grins mischievously.

She takes in a deep breath, holding eye contact with Len, and shouts, “Leo!”

The dog comes barreling from the hallway, going nuts when Lisa crouches and starts cooing and petting it.

Len, because he’s petty like that, waits until she’s leaving with the dog, already out the front door, to grin at her. “Mick says hi.” And closes the door in her face.

He can hear her squeal as he retreats to the living room.

  * ●●●●



Len wakes up when Mick yelps and jerks under him. He might have mistaken it for his alarm going off and smacked Mick in the face, but eventually, his mind clears out enough so he can push out a, “What?”

Mick doesn’t answer, but resolves to staring somewhere at the foot of his bed. Len peers over his shoulder after lifting his head off Mick’s chest and finds the subject of Mick’s disbelief.

The dog is gnawing at his ankle. “Oh.” He lays his head down again.

“What the fuck?” Mick asks into silence. His chest vibrates with his voice and, oh, that’s kinda nice. Mick still smells like coconut and smoke and he’s radiating warmth, so Len nuzzles into his neck.

“You’ll get used to it.” He says.

“That’s weird.” Mick counters.

Len hums. “Wait until we get in the shower.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just pull your leg under the blankets and go back to sleep.”


End file.
